


Dioecious

by TheSphinxDen



Category: Tron: Uprising
Genre: F/M, Implied Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:53:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSphinxDen/pseuds/TheSphinxDen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Gorn's shop in Purgos is officially overseen by the Occupation, she has no choice but to deal with the consistent presence of General Tesler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dioecious

Segment_001> The City is Watching

_< _Achieved Doc_001>: General Tesler is currently overseeing my work. After the treason his commander committed on me, I have no reason to trust him anymore than the previous. It’s merely to the next state of dictatorship. An unfortunate reality for me, and the condition of my functioning. Thankfully, the commander is demoted to another area. The General seemed to take an almost personal offense to the deformity he had implanted in my face to silence me. An odd gesture, surely, but I am grateful to be absent of Pavel’s sniffling._

__

_He has been monitoring my projects, determining if they are fit for the will of the Occupation. Whatever that may be. Surely, they will find them useful even in a minor degree._

__

_//End Note_

 

“I find that very hard to believe.”

 

Once again, Gorn’s shop was chilled to preserve its humming, old equipment. The blue glow throbbed from ice-caked black walls, giving way to a narrowly constructed room where the small program glanced down what appeared to function as a multi-lensed optical. She grasped her usual tools in hand, working delicately on her client’s disc displays. This was her first attempt at any sort of weapon modification, clearly now that Pavel was out of the question to perform it on the general. He had entrusted her to modify him the finest, most deadliest blaster cannon the Grid has ever seen. A simple request that left her rolling her one remaining eye, a gesture Tesler himself would never pick up on.

 

“You find _what_ hard to believe?” The general sneered in her direction, sat in his usual place across from her. His presence here was overbearing; a burden. It was hard enough when his conversational skills consisted only of barking orders or paying her off-handed insults. But Gorn had no choice.

“That the Renegade possessed a weapon of such caliber. Certainly, they would have had to acquire it through illegal means, and I doubt with your watchful eyes on Argon that a transaction of that nature would have slipped through your notice.” Gorn titled her head as she spoke, hands poking at the displays of General Tesler’s disc. She pulled code there, pinched it there. It was coming along nicely. She hoped he would believe the same.

“Don’t get me started on ‘illegal means,’ Gorn. Considering I salvaged this shop from what it was, you should be thanking me and not reminding me of the less than wholesome origins of its operation.” Tesler growled, bringing a large fist onto the table.

“Of course.”

Gorn pursed her lips, not even flinching as her desk was slammed. His violence was not usually directed at her, and even though it was very much an atmospheric rage, Gorn still felt a slight tingle race up her spinal nodes.

After finishing with his disc, she slipped it across the table into his waiting hands.

“I assume I don’t have to give you directions on how to activate it.” she chuckled, watching him flip through the modified strings, browsing through flickering seas of numbers and symbols. Seemingly satisfied, he returned the disc to its port, resting in the graft between his massive shoulder blades.

He turned slowly to face her, the aged contours of his expression baring a what appeared to be a thoughtful smile. “I’m eager to put this to use, and see to it that the Renegade will be in cubes before the next cycle,” he growled, eyes darkening against the tight nod of her reassurance. “As for you, program, you’ve done well.”

Gorn flinched as the general reached out and touched her shoulder. She was uncertain of the move just before the familiar ice-white of her lines began to bleed crimson. Then, she understood.

“Welcome to the Occupation, program. You’ll suit us nicely as a modifier. A legal modifier. Keep in mind now that since your little shop here is officially Occupied territory, I’ll be dropping in more often. To keep an eye on activity.”

The small program could have scoffed at the statement; _‘yes, keep an eye on my work just in case I do more underground projects. Suit yourself, general_ ’, she grimaced inwardly. To placate him, she simply nodded politely in hopes of encouraging his leave. “Wonderful.” she stated, though would not hide the slight, static displeasure in her voice. At this rate, she’ll never have any more privacy as long as she functioned.

“Indeed.” His massive, heavy hand left her body and for a moment she found herself thinking how lucky she was not to have it around her neck.

“Keep watch for any pings from me, Gorn. Until the Renegade is either derezzed or captured, I can count on your craftsmanship. My guards are in the area. Don’t try to leave the parameter without authorization.” the final touch of his words were a dangerous, razor tipped warning. As usual, Gorn had no intentions of disobeying. She simply would do what she did best. It mattered not who was in control. The machine of her existence simply had a new operator, and the cogs of her work would follow suit to a new command. Just fine, rather, for she had no further objections as the general finally took his leave.

“Good luck.” she stated flatly, watching as the last fragment of his cape fluttered out of her doorstep and into the dark throat of Purgos.


End file.
